Seven Sins of Sayna the Dovahkiin
by chthonicAsylum
Summary: Seven short incidents of Sayna Firlake, my Bosmerian Dovahkiin, exhibiting each of the deadly sins. Rated T because lust and violence/blood.


**Wrath – Blood on Snow**

She couldn't feel just how cold the air was around her as she swung her shining weapon down upon the head of her foe. The adrenaline and rage in her blocked out all outer influence. She barely heard the gargled cry of her attacker as he collapsed into the disheveled snow. Sayna didn't take any time to catch her breath once he was down. No, with skilled movements she spun to face the next bandit who thought they could steal from her. The blazing fire in her Bosmerian blood raced faster through her as the giant Nord ran forward, great sword held high above him.

The young Dovahkiin hadn't always been a fighter. She had grown up in a relatively quiet household with her mother, stepfather, and his son. As a child she would have never dreamed she would find herself in the frozen forests of Skyrim, screaming and hacking away at the degenerates who thought they could best her. But there she was, dodging a deadly length of metal and bringing her war axe down into the neck of the Nord. She wrenched the bloodied thing out of the dead waste of flesh just in time to shriek as electricity flooded into her system from the last bandit, an Argonian.

Sayna turned so quickly that the bandit didn't register the need to protect themself. Only screams were heard as the Argonian was set ablaze from the geyser of fire that spewed forth from the enraged woman's hand. Both were screaming. She continued to douse the lizard in flames till they fell to their knees, at which point Sayna stopped and grabbed her axe one last time.

She kneeled down and looked straight into the golden, pain filled eyes of the bandit. Her own green eyes held no mercy. With one quick swing, the blood stained axe cut through the scaled throat of the burned wretch. The Dovahkiin stood and shook off as much blood as she could before placing her beloved weapon back into her belt and continuing towards her next destination.

**Pride - Better than You**

Quick movements, keen senses, clever wit. These were all things Sayna loved about herself. She knew since she was a child that she was special; her mother always said so. But that's what mothers do, don't they? They tell you they love you and that you're the greatest thing in the world. But her mother could have never have known just how special she was.

She was the Dovahkiin, the Thane of most holds in Skyrim, the champion of Hircine (among other Princes). For as much as she resented some of her titles, she couldn't help but love the power and respect that it commanded of others. The titles bestowed upon her gave her the reputation of a skilled fighter and hunter. The best of the best.

Of course, no title came without challengers. The stray fighter who thought they could take her out, the dumb bandits and marauders who didn't know any better, a few Dark Brotherhood assassins. She was smug, they thought. She was also so small that they thought they could knock her out with a feather. Most rethought their path in life when they wound up broken and beaten on the floor, if not dead.

Yes, for as much as Sayna loathed her fate as Dragonborn, she couldn't help but take pride in her achievements that it allowed her to obtain. Nothing short of Akatosh himself could stop her now and she planned to keep it that way.

**Envy - The Veil of Happiness**

Sayna watched from her spot against a wall as a family passed her by, laughing and smiling despite the bullshit happening in the world around them. She wondered idly if they were truly ignorant of the danger in the world or if they merely let it slide off them in favor of being happy. She rolled her eyes and turned her head, cursing the joy of others

She once dreamed of being happy and normal, of living without the fear of the evil everywhere. But that was before she was the Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn, destined to save all Nirn from the wrath of Alduin the World-Eater. It possibly might have been before her mother died all those years ago. A flash of her mother's face came to mind, looking older than it should have and stricken with an illness with no simple cure. She frowned and glared at the dirt before pushing off the wall to set off on some insignificant quest that was sitting in her journal.

She was only in her twenties and she already thought like a bitter old woman, she mused. A bitter, jealous old woman…

**Gluttony – Damn Hangovers**

The Dovahkiin was many things: terrifyingly strong, skilled with both magic and an axe, clever as the foxes she hunted in the dense forests when traveling. The list went on. However, if there was one thing Sayna Firlake was, it was a drunk.

It was a common sight to find her in the taverns of Skyrim, knocking back drink after drink till she blacked out. Most of the time she would wake up in the room she had rented beforehand, having been carried in by some good samaritan or annoyed innkeeper. Other times she would wake up at the side of some naked man or woman (or both) and quietly get dressed and walk to the nearest apothecary for a hangover remedy. On one occasion, she woke up to find herself in a makeshift cave shelter having her hair braided by a humming hagraven. (She was never quite able to explain that incident.) Every day after one of her drunken escapades, Sayna always swore to herself that she would never drink again. It was always a lie.

She would always find herself wandering into the nearest inn of whatever hold she was in at the end of the day. (Though sometimes it was the middle and on certain occasions, the beginning.) She would always find herself sitting down and ordering a bottle of mead. One bottle turned into two, two turned into five. Five once turned into a vampire lord with rainbow-sparkle hair that one time someone slipped skooma into her drink. The pattern was something ingrained into her mind; something she couldn't, and honestly didn't want to, resist. It was apart of her as much as being the Dovahkiin was.

Sayna Firlake, the Dovahkiin, sat down at a table for one in a quiet inn and ordered a bottle of mead.

**Lust - Stupid Sexy God**

Whenever she got into predicaments like this, it was always because she was pretty drunk. This time was no different. Honestly though, how was she supposed to know she had gotten into a drinking contest with the Daedric Prince of Debauchery? It seemed almost unfair to blame this on being drunk. 'So I'm going to blame the fucker on top of me then,' Sayna thought, glaring up at said fucker. Above her, Sanguine chuckled devilishly and gave her a crooked grin that playfully flashed razor sharp teeth.

"You're blaming me for this?" The Daedra whispered, leaning next to Sayna's ear. She froze and the blush on her face darkened at the realization that he must have read her mind. "I don't think there should be any blame at all, seeing as we're both enjoying ourselves quite a bit." He punctuated his statement by nipping at her ear with those razor teeth. She squealed and jumped at the feeling. Sanguine merely laughed again.

Sayna growled and shoved at his dark chest, pushing him off of her so that their positions would flip. Now she was on top of him, straddling his waist and running her nails lightly over the red markings that etched themselves across his naked torso. Sanguine let out a noise that was like a purr and stared back up at her. His cocky expression said everything. She could feel him tearing away the rest of her clothes in his mind as the demonic eyes bore into her. She shuddered, wanting him to do just that but she wouldn't give in to this arrogant immortal just yet.

'Oh no," she thought as she crushed her mouth onto his in a heated kiss that doubled as a battle for dominance. "I have so much I want to do to you first." She knew Sanguine heard that by the way he grabbed her ass and smirked into the kiss.

It was predicaments like these that made Sayna happy she was a raging alcoholic.

**Greed – The Feeling of a Full Purse**

The solid thunk of a dead bandit hitting the ground was music to Sayna's pointy ears. The land was quiet now; no more yelling or sound of spells being cast at her. The only sounds she heard were the blowing of the wind through the abandoned fortress and the sound of her boots crushing the snow beneath them. She slipped her axe into the loop on her belt and stepped towards the nearest dead bandit.

She had been an adventurer long enough to know that not checking the dead was a waste. You never know what they might have been carrying. She had found everything from a few pieces of gold to helpful potions to rare enchanted weapons on corpses. Corpses had the potential of being as valuable as the chests she found next word walls.

The Bosmer pocketed the loot she obtained off the bandit, happy to be a few septims heavier. Some would see her as fickle, greedy. She simply knew the value of coin and how it could control people. She liked having control, since she had so little control normally.

Having finished looting the bandits, Sayna stood straight and brushed her clothes off before walking away. Her full purse jingled as she left.

**Sloth - For Another Day**

The journal was filled to the brim with her scrawl, sometimes in the common tongue, sometimes in Bosmerian, and one or two entries in Dovah. Each was a quest she need to fulfill, or a note about an item she had found that needed looking into. Some were weeks old, for which she felt a bit guilty.

Sitting on her bed in Jorrvaskr, Sayna flipped through her battered journal groaning as she realized how much work she had to do. To many people asking her help, to many dragons in her way, to many Thalmor and Stormcloaks and Imperials and-

She sighed and leaned back against her bed, closing her journal and stowing away her burdens in her sack. What she needed to do most right now was sleep. She'd think about it again after a nap, maybe after dinner. If not then, then the morning would be a good enough time to think it over.

Her body relaxed and her quests were forgotten as sleep overtook her.


End file.
